


Freedom For All

by AlixxBlack



Series: Holidays with Merthur [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Holiday Angst, Holiday fluffy, Independence, It can be either depending on how you read it, Magic Reveal, Revolution, a hyrbid to end all hybrids you know, it is angsty fluff, otp, pro-magic users
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlixxBlack/pseuds/AlixxBlack
Summary: Summer months bring with them celebrations of all sorts: such as celebrating the magic ban. It had Merlin particularly upset and he decides he won't turn up for work. As things tend to do, though, one thing leads to another and - whoops - Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic.





	Freedom For All

            Days like this are rare. Sunshine warms the surface with love and generosity, giving the soil what it needs for a healthy harvest in the fall months. A breeze with no rush to reach its destination brushes against the cheeks of Camelot’s citizens lazily and without care. Though it’s not invasive, it balances the heat reaching its tendrils down from the clear skies.

            The whole city smells of baked goods and fresh brews. The trade market is bustling with travelling merchants and neighboring traders coming for the celebration. Not a face goes without a smile in the lower city, distant relatives visiting and new business opportunities bringing them the joy they’d forgotten in the winter months; but Merlin breaks the pattern.

            A frown rips the corners of him lips down towards the earth, threatening to steal the jaw from his face. Each summer they celebrate something that means to cast shame and darkness over exactly people with magic – people exactly – like – him. No, Merlin refuses to feign happiness. Too many years he’s pretended to be happy when he should have defended his kind.

 

* * *

           

            Merlin lays while reading a book in his chambers, the door cracked just slightly in the event that Gaius should need his assistance, but he means to avoid any tasks related to the preparation of the feats and jousts and whatever else Arthur would have him to do to give a platform to the hate that defines him as the enemy. Call it rebellion; call it pride; call it being a clot pole – Merlin doesn’t care. Not this year!

            But Gaius never calls to him. He works, muttering occasionally and knocking about his supplies. At some point a knight comes looking for Merlin, but it is not on Arthur’s request, and there no reason to believe the matter was urgent. In the end, neither Gaius nor Merlin made his presence known. In fact, it seems as if Gaius really doesn’t know that King’s manservant is hiding away in his bedroom.

            Of course, he’s more than a manservant.

            Merlin is a sorcerer too.

            And, in his defense, sorcerers need rest as much as anyone else.

            His eyes begin fluttering shut when a second knight shows up. This time the voice was more familiar, distantly belonging to Gwaine. Merlin trusts the unpredictable man enough, but he’s just as loyal of a knight as he is a friend. Unsure what is the best choice Merlin makes no choice and waits to see the consequences. After this curious mind, though, Gaius peers into the young warlock’s bedroom.

            “What are you doing in there, boy,” Gaius scolds with a grave expression on his face. “Do you know that Arthur has half the royal guard searching for you?”

            _And nobody thought to check my cot,_ Merlin questions in his mind.

            “He doesn’t need tablecloth in the dinning room that badly,” Merlin whines. When he sits up there is a grave look about Gaius. It’s not the sort of look he gives when Merlin uses his magic recklessly or when he turns down food he doesn’t like even if he is starving. Those times where he’s too immature for words instead garner a different look from the elderly physician, and known sorcerer himself. At least, not anymore anyway. Merlin drops his gaze.

            Gaius shakes his head and remarks lowly, “Arthur doesn’t like this any more than you do, Merlin, and you know as much. He is trying to be the ruler his father was because he protected his people for a long time. More than his own values, the King wants to keep Camelot safe for the people that knows matter most.” If there were a truer thing said of Arthur Pendragon, surely Merlin would have known of it. Gaius is right but it doesn’t make it anymore hypocritical to celebrate an even that would see Merlin killed. He didn’t even choose magic.

            Magic chose him.

            Standing on his wobbly legs with a creak in his body so deep that he nearly sits back down and ignores the words of his guardian. Still, the right thing to do is to go speak with Arthur and apologize for his absence. Perhaps he’ll find his life on the way?

 

* * *

 

 

            Gwen is walking through the halls, her brow furrowed and her hands working furiously to find something inside of her wicker basket. Judging by the fact that the clothes inside are _obviously_ Arthur’s, Gwen has been tasked with Merlin’s chores until he reappeared. He grabs the basket as he passes and gives her thumbs up. Nothing more needs to be said before she starts jogging down the hall to return to whatever else she needs to tend. Oftentimes she works along the kitchen staff during these celebrations.

            Though he isn’t fully himself, somewhat brooding still that people would be excited to revel in the absence of something as beautiful as magic, he is smiling. Arthur has that sort of pull over him, doesn’t he? Merlin’s highest highs and lowest lows usually come from something Arthur’s done, seeing as their fates are tied together and all. Merlin pushes the door open and waits for whatever Arthur has in his hand to come flying.

            Maybe just a little spell to deflect it wouldn’t hurt? Gaius would be frowning if he knew the thought crossed his mind. “Merlin!”

            Arthur’s voice is a growl, anger tinged with surprise. He doesn’t throw anything today. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and stares blankly as the servant. A free hand rises to tussle his black hair while he holds the basket at his side. “Gwen just left with those to clean my best tunic. Why are they back in my chambers?”

            “I passed her on my way in and took them. I wanted to come apologize,” Merlin tried his best not to…

            “Why are you smiling?” Arthur demands, his smile turning sideways with curiosity. He steps closer and closer until the distance between them shrinks from half a room to an arm’s length. His eyes trace Merlin top to bottom and back again. “You’re in so much trouble for disappearing _again_. What is there to smile about?”

            Merlin considers his answer, kind of.

            “You, sire,” Merlin says, “I like your face when you’re pretending to be mad that I’m a terrible servant.”

            Dumbfounded, Arthur reaches up to smack Merlin for his sass. Without knowing that his magic would flare, though, Merlin lifts and bends to avoid it. Though he has a great deal of control of his magic, even the best warlocks sometimes let go enough for it to work independently. Arthur get’s pushed back so that his hand swishes through the air – missing Merlin entirely. Horror pierces his gut and bleeds into his entire body with a rush.

            “W-what was that?” Arthur questions. “What just happened?”

            It appears that he was stricken too. Merlin and Arthur, the King and his manservant, two sides of the same coin; they just watch each other with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

            And then Merlin dares, “What was what?”

            “How did you…”

            Merlin drops the basket before Arthur ever finishes his thought. He knows that there’s no time to return to his quarters to pack so he just runs wherever he can think to hide. Gwen’s is out because they’re such good friends. Gwen will stow nearly everyone away if she cares for them or their well-being. None of the knights would listen if Arthur said the word ‘magic’ in his call for capture.

            So, the last place that Arthur would ever look in all of Camelot? For Merlin?

            There’s only one place.

 

* * *

 

 

            Nobody knows about the storage attic above the stables. It’s always been there but nobody uses it because there’s a barn attached to the stables now. It is unlikely than anyone has spent enough time in the stables mucking them out to realize it is still open. Merlin snagged some blankets from the alleys on his way down for warmth through the night. He is officially a criminal in the eyes of the King.

            It wasn’t even on purpose that he revealed his magic. And it wasn’t even really in an obvious way. It could’ve been a push were there others in the room – laughing and distracting the King from the actual events taking place. Instead, the privacy allowed him to see and experience everything. Merlin regrets ever having a tantrum about the celebrations in the first place. Had he done his job then he wouldn’t be huddling in the corner of a stable attic breathing the foul air from horse dung below.

            Since his magic is no secret now, he may as well use it to protect himself.

            _Sigillum caeli –_

_Ostium clausum –_

_Praesidium elementis –_

            And the most important one, he thinks as he grabs a bucket he had stashed away up here in case he needed a wash when tending the horses –

            _Aquae copia._

            As for food, Merlin will have to be smart about it until he can escape Camelot. He can’t go back to Ealdor because Arthur will look there first. Perhaps he could find refuge in Essetir? Merlin knew that the King did not favor the Pendragon family – _and_ – they hold magic tournaments, he’s heard. He could live openly and perhaps find himself a place where he could get recognition for his skills.

            Could he make an enemy of Arthur? His best friend? His other half?

            Oh, what a mistake he’s made.

 

* * *

 

 

            Arthur never sends the guard for Merlin, unsure of what order he would issue. What crime had he committed?  
            “Magic,” Arthur declares to only himself. His forehead is pressed against the glass of his private quarters. Surely someone is looking for him but he’s ordered a guard post at either end of the hallway to prevent any contact. The only person allowed through, should he return, is Merlin.

            Merlin – has – magic?

            It’s not a question. He absolutely does. He has to. How else could he push Arthur away without touching him? Dodge a blow to the head when he’s not even trained to maneuver any sort of physical confrontation? Merlin is a clumsy as they come. He has magic; he _absolutely_ has magic.

            He can’t tell the knights to search for Merlin under the guise that he’s not been seen because Gwen saw him. Gaius likely saw him. Someone has seen him today. It would be suspicious to have him searched for without him having gone missing properly. In the past, he went all day without someone laying eyes on him. Of course, he’s the King, so he can order anything for any reason and it can’t be questioned.

            “No,” he decides, “I have to deal with this on my own. Nobody can know. Nobody can suspect.”

            So – where does a secretly magical manservant go if he doesn’t want to be found by a King hosting a celebration honoring the rule of Uther Pendragon _and_ the damnation of magic as exclusively evil? Well, Merlin could be anywhere.

            The tavern, the market, the dungeons, leagues away from Camelot…

            “Or,” Arthur wonders, “he might be hiding somewhere he thinks I’d never go.”

            And that’s how Arthur starts making his way to the stables.

 

* * *

 

            Merlin feels his presence before he makes it known. Through a crack in the floorboards of his attic space, he peers down at Arthur pacing. It seems as though he is deciding what to say, so he just keeps repeating Merlin’s name.

            “Merlin,” he coos calmly.

            “Merlin,” he says, letting the words fall flatly from his lips on the dirty floor.

            “Merlin,” he sighs.

            “Merlin,” he says.

            “Merlin,” he says.

            “MERLIN!” he yells.

            _Nolite magicae._

            Whether Arthur feels the spells dissolve is unknown, but apparently he knows about the attic. Almost as quickly as the enchantments are gone, he begins climb the ladder. Merlin jerks his head back in surprise but doesn’t move. He pulls the blanket from his lap and prepare for whatever he must in order to escape with his life. Until Arthur sees Camelot to it’s future there’s still a need for Merlin to be alive.

            Arthur raises his hands as he crouches into the space, “No weapons,” he offers. “I just came to talk.”

            Merlin doesn’t move and he doesn’t let his guard down. He doesn’t even speak. The air between them is as thick as the scent of dung coming from below. Arthur’s discomfort at it is obvious but his focus never leaves that of Merlin. Tension builds until Arthur breathes audibly, “Merlin, please.”

 

 

* * *

 

            _Dear people of Camelot, we are gathered here today to remember the work of Uther Pendragon to rid our lands of an evil that tempts us in our weakest moments. In these following days let us celebrate a land without magic, a land without torment, and a land free of wrongdoers who would trick us before help us. Magic is the root of all that is evil, and today we revel in our freedom such tyrannical practices._

 

* * *

 

 

            Merlin reads the speech with grinding teeth. The instant Arthur catches him looking over the words he fought hard to produce. In spite of magic taking both parents from him, Arthur has not been shy of using it in the past. Magic has its consequences but no differently than war. Most everything has a cost.

            “You know what I have done contradicts the word on that page,” Arthur groans in defeat. Was he no less a hypocrite than his father? To use magic only when it appeals to him… and what of all of the times Merlin would’ve used magic to save him when he wasn’t looking…

            How much of his success isn’t even his own?

            Merlin’s voice indicates he is smiling. “I know, Arthur. You are not your father. That is not your destiny.” Tension builds again, just as it had done in the stables, but this is stronger somehow. Each man is watching the other carefully, unsure what will be said or done. Nothing is changed between them, not really, but somehow it is different. In the last few hours the roles have been reversed. Merlin doesn’t need to protect Arthur from this revelation, but rather Arthur needs to protect Merlin from those who would criticize Arthur’s hypocrisy as weakness and dishonesty to the people.

            Realistically, though, they need to protect each other.

            That much had not changed.

            “Why did you keep something of this measure secret? I could’ve helped you!” Arthur hisses, though it is not an energetic tone and it falls short. Exhaustion from his days as king and soldier alike are evident in his features, his body. Merlin is similar, though, because he hunches against a chair and lets his features smooth over in somber acceptance.

            What was there to help? “I was born with it, my lord. I cannot simply stop having it because I am defined by it. The magic is as much a part of my as my blood and skin and bones. There is no help to be had, sire.”

            Arthur laughs, “Stop with the formalities, Merlin, there’s clearly no need for it. You could see me dead on the floor before I could draw my sword.” Though he should have sounded offended, scared, or angry, instead he simply sounds amused. Perhaps he’s even pleased that Merlin has done no such thing. The desire never existed, not really.

            Silence returns to the room and so they fall into a common routine. Merlin prepares the table with two glasses of fresh water. He picks out a clean outfit from the closet, one fitting for a King who will tend meetings with the court and the royal guests from neighboring kingdoms. Arthur keeps pace, moving in his usual patterns as well. While Merlin dresses him, though, he tries to revive the conversation.

            “I do not care any less for you,” he whispers, “but I am hurt that you would lie. You’ve watched me begin to doubt and distrust magic, only to question my judgment. You watched my father die to magic. Why would you keep me in the dark about what you could do?”

            Timid as he seemed, Arthur does turn around and grab Merlin by the soldiers. “I’ve trusted you! All of these years!”

            Heartbeats are quiet but they can be felt. A tremble in the room from their racing hearts and rapid breathes leave both men at a loss for words. Merlin waits to see if Arthur has more to say and Arthur waits to see if Merlin has anything to say at all. With neither party making any remarks, however, only one thing can be said.

            “Get out.”

            And then again.

            “GET OUT!”

 

* * *

 

            Gaius watches Merlin packing his belongings from the entrance. His body moves with great anguish. Arthur has not set for the young man’s arrest but what he’s done is far worse. It is precisely what Merlin expected, as did Gaius, and it has come to play out precisely as they feared.

            It wasn’t even something Merlin could control, by the sounds of it, which pained Gaius even more.

            “He has not banished you,” Gaius reminds him.

            Merlin shakes his head, “He would not take any action against me. It would make him look foolish.”

            Gaius takes his attention off of Merlin. There’s a soft knocking outside of the door but it’s not an actual knock on the door. Unsure what it might mean, he cracks it open and peers outside. Just to the left at the bottom of the stairwell is none other than Arthur Pendragon.

            Seconds pass by as he debates approaching the King. Would Merlin notice his absence? Would he come to check on him? What would he even say? Before he can convince himself to remain inside, he’s walking towards Arthur anyway.

            “Sire,” he begins, “I suppose you’ve come for Merlin?”

            Arthur nods.

            “He is packing to leave.”

            Arthur nods again.

            “Do you not wish to stop him?”

            Arthur shrugs, “He lied. You lied. What can I do if not let him go?”

            Gaius uses the young Pendragon’s shoulder to balance himself, settling on the steps beside him. A weakness that plagues the King is his inability to see past the black and white options before him. Rarely does he consider that there is a compromise. There is also a third option if one looks hard enough for it. “Forgive him, my lord, and make the changes you must so that he can remain by your side.”

 

* * *

 

            Arthur strides into Merlin’s personal quarters confidently, though with a swift and soft step. When he closes the door he ensures that it is locked as well. Merlin is standing with his knapsack and a familiar staff.

            The blood drains from Arthur’s face, but he cannot feel anymore defeated than he does already. “My god, Merlin, you sentenced my father to death too?” Merlin is crying before he finishes the thought. There is much he has had to keep private; much he’s had to bear in silence. His only confidante being Gaius…

            “Arthur, I have only ever used my magic to help you. What happened to your father was not my intention. I had no clue what was at work! I thought trying to save him would help you see magic is not only evil!” Merlin crumbles against his bedside table, reaching his free hand up to cover his face as he sobs.

            At first the King doesn’t do anything at the sight of his manservant breaking down. Their entire friendship, real as it is, seems to be less and more than Arthur ever considered. Merlin has been living a life where he can’t be himself. He chooses to live in a kingdom that would see him executed for his magic. Arthur’s friendship is more important to him than even himself.

            Nobody, not even Gwen, has ever been so obliged to value him so highly.

            Was he even worth such loyalty?

            “Merlin,” Arthur’s soft voice manages before stepping into the young warlock, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. One hand is on the back of his head, holding him in place to keep him from shaking away from his grip. Though it is not instant but Merlin finds comfort in the King’s arms. He returns the gesture by wriggling to put his arms around Arthur’s waist.

            And there they stand – in an embrace that brought with it a fresh sort of tension. Though it was familiar to the men, it had never been shared between them, and all they can do is remain. Whatever comes of this new revelation, they will overcome together.

 

* * *

 

            _Dear people of Camelot, we have gathered here today to begin the traditional celebrations implemented by my father. He took control of Camelot and gave them the independence that he believed it needed from magic, and though these beliefs have served Camelot well – I want to take action to amend his tradition._

_Today marks a positive change for Camelot. I want to make this a land of true freedom, one of just freedom, and one where no man, woman, or child should feel the victim of unfair laws. Today marks a new tradition._

_In spite of what my father believed about the evils of magic, as your new King I must refute those values and see the good that can come from magic too. Today marks a new celebration, and the beginning of a new era in which magic will no longer bear the penalty of death unless used with malice._

_Let us begin anew and enjoy those who have travelled to share in the love that can be found in Camelot forevermore._


End file.
